Destiny Lost
by Juna Maleus
Summary: An echo of a thought. The irony of a veiled destiny lost.


_Author's Note: Huh? Hrm? What do you say? No update to A Crimson Conspiracy this week? Yeah I know, my bad. I'm procrastinating with that story so badly. It's just I'm working on a huge chapter, and it's just daunting. Hard you can even say. One-shots are more to my liking lately, and so here is another. It's more of a **"stream of consciousness"** story, with the character doting and pondering about the meaning of Humanity in regards to fate. _

_Seriously though, by the freaking Nine Divines, if someone doesn't realize who exactly is thinking this, I'm going to go punch The Adoring Fan again. It's from a certain character's point of view, shouldn't be that hard to guess. Unless you like have no background knowledge on one of the most "favored" characters of Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. And if someone says frakkin' Lucien Lachance, there is another punch coming to The Adoring Fan._

_Please review :D. I love discussing this matter of philosophy. There is much to be found in the underlying text.  
_

_Oh yeah, all the jazz. Bethesda owns the Elder Scrolls franchise and all their intellectual properties that we take so for granted. Haha.  
_

Destiny Lost

They say that everyone has a fate about them. They always tell you when you are young that there are forces beyond our imaginations working and plotting, scheming and building our little lives. We are all little toys in the eyes of the divine, and in the eyes of those who strive to be of the divine. Talos ascended, born out of simplicity and transcended into the glory of the Nine. Why can't everyone else have a special destiny about them too? It would make sense for them to.

They always say, when you are young, that there is a prophecy out there that we are bound to fulfill. All we take for granted is supposed to hold meaning, and make our lives what they are.

But where does the grandiosity stop and the realistic views kick in?

The Daedra, the Aedra; they are all a lie. A dirty, _filthy_ lie.

I am proof. Although my vernacular may be refined, educated perhaps, there is something lost about my life. I have trained myself in the arts of the Gods. For years I have remained the disciple of the Nine Divines. I have been a disciple of the Daedric Princes as well, relishing myself in their passions and their sins. Both have yet to reveal to me my destiny.

And you know why? Because I have no destiny. They all lie. Everyone. In this world, on Mundus itself, not everyone has a destiny.

It is because the Gods are cruel. Or perhaps, merciful. But I do not see it that way. Long have I hoped to have meaning… to have a purpose… to be of something grand. Alas, this has not happened. I have toyed with the Gods, begged for both their blessing and their wrath, and neither has yet to deliver. Akatosh be damned. Azura be damned. Countless times I have tried to provoke them, force them to not stay their hand. True, I have attracted the attention of their demons, their avatars, their minions… but not the Gods themselves. Only one truly bothered to even speak a wholesome, yet shallow word to me. And he? He does not matter in the whole of things. Sanguine never threatened Tamriel. Mehrunes Dagon, Molag Bal, and the rest of the House of Troubles have from time to time. They matter more than him.

I cannot even find myself entwined in an intricate web by the Daedric Webspinner itself.

And now I wonder? If we forgot the ancient ones, the earth bones, and the Daedra themselves, would they cease to exist? We are the ones who gave them names. _We_ are the ones who breathed life into them. Without us, they would not exist in their same shape and form.

Maybe Nirn would be better off without them. I would be.

There is no destiny for me. So why should I bother…

Even I would find comfort in the thought of being a pathetic pawn. Even the marble pawns of chess have a known fate and a part to play.

I? I am but flesh and magicka. What makes me no different than a plant? Sentience doesn't matter when one does not have purpose! Even a mere plant has a purpose!

But I am of an ancient race that has proven to conquer an entire continent! What am I compared to my ancestors? I cure the sick. I worship and praise Akatosh, finding redemption for my supposed sins in the process. I do good deeds. I have done evil deeds. I have lived a life.

And yet, I do not feel human. What is it to be human? Is to enjoy the passions? Is it to live a just life?

I cry out to Akatosh in my prayers, in hopes I get an answer.

There is never an answer. Only silence and the chill of night.

The Gods have forsaken me.

They say everyone has a destiny. They say everyone has a fate about them.

They are _wrong_.


End file.
